In The Groove EP.11: Fleet Foxes - S/T
Nau mai hoki mai to Studio 1 Vintage Guitars and another episode of In The Groove. Brought to you in collaboration with On Vinyl where you can find an exceptional range of play graded vinyl for your listening pleasure. David and Liz at On Vinyl have just returned from a crate digging mission in Japan, so keep an eye out on the site for interesting new titles on the site. And don’t forget that every record purchased at the moment, puts you in the drawer to win a Martin DX Johnny Cash guitar.
Moving into our second week of Indie Folk, I was hard pressed to shuffle past this modern classic from 2008 when I spotted it in the rack here at the shop. It’s the debut full length from Fleet Foxes. The self-titled album follows on from two critically acclaimed EPs and is a myriad of luscious vocal harmonies, organic instrumentation and mediaeval lyrical imagery. It introduced the band to a worldwide audience, garnered praise from critics and showed 20-something males that it was still ok to wear a waistcoat. The band is a five piece group that orbits around the songwriting of Robin Pecknold, who is also the lead singer in the group and around the time of making the album was all of about 22 years old.
The cover art is a painting by Dutch artist Pieter Bruegel the Elder called The Dutch Proverbs - a busy scene of everyday happenings with absurdities peppered throughout. A woman holds down a demonic figure and binds it, a man shaves a pig and another burns his bum on a fire. Although the art and the music are separated by some 400 plus years, they are oddly similar. The music within is a fine patchwork of natural sounds and can be quite dense, however it is expertly arranged and the album a joy to listen to upon return listens. You’ll spot something you hadn’t heard before, I’m darn well sure of it.
The album runs to a seamless beat, songs seem to run into one another and the album moves like a rustic folk symphony. Opening with Sun It Rises, the listener is greeted with an impeccable vocal introduction, something that Fleet Foxes can do in their sleep. Enter the open strum of a dropped D acoustic guitar, a stirring hammond organ and a curious acoustic lead line before the verse takes hold of you, awash in reverb. The song builds as banjo and drums join the scene before a Lennon-esque electric guitar motif pushes us higher, until the band breaks and morning has risen, where a rich vocal arrangement once again warms our faces.
Taking a bit of a cyber gear perve it was discovered that Pecknold favours a Martin D-18 acoustic guitar, a classic American instrument known for its rich bottom end and airy trebles. Acoustic guitar features heavily throughout and on Tiger Mountain Peasant Song I hear both a nylon and steel string guitar, panned to great effect. Today I’m featuring a D-18 Authentic 1939, a meticulous recreation of vintage the great. On the recording the guitars are tuned down a half a step, giving the fingerstyle pattern some extra ommph while also melding to the dark lyrical content of death, nature and degradation.
“I don’t know what I have done, I’m turning myself to a demon” sings the protagonist. Are they admitting to some foul deed or describing their inner turmoil surrounding mortality. It’s an eerie song that is as deep as it is simple, a death waltz of sorts.
Your generic pop arrangements don’t really get a look in on this album, it’s all about where the vibe wants to take the band. But having said that, they never outstay their welcome with no song clocking in at over the 4:30 mark. Drums are more often used in a jazzy/orchestral way, with back beats favouring the hi-hat over the snare and mallets are used to great effect across the record. Think Hal Blaine’s playing on Pet Sounds and you’re there. Now that I think about it, there are more than a few Beach Boys similarities at play here, but to write Fleet Foxes off as a carbon copy would be doing them and yourself a disservice.
The lyrical imagery takes me to a time long past, perhaps not a time that we have seen here on the earth. It touches on seasons, forges journeys through forest and mountain and seems to nestle in deep on some quasi frontier trip. Pecknold possesses a potent set of pipes, freewheeling it throughout the album and pushing the preamp into the red at all the right times.
It’s hard to only highlight a couple of songs here, for it really is a fantastic listen from top to tail and should be enjoyed that way. So, set aside an hour, don your headphones, light your sage and escape to a wondrous time and place of yore, where squirrels gather, folks say ‘hark’ on mountain tops and acoustic guitars are strummed beside babbling brooks.
Adieu.